


What The Stilled Heart Wants

by dorkilysoulless (custodian)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dark Dean Winchester, Demon Dean Winchester, M/M, Violence, demonic behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 19:54:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1755663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/custodian/pseuds/dorkilysoulless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a demon means getting whatever you want.  It's simple, brutal, and satisfying as hell.  Well, except when it turns out that what Dean really wants is to hang on to one of the things he wants to break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What The Stilled Heart Wants

The first thing Dean does -- well, not the literal first thing, but the first thing that’s just _his_ \-- is go back for that burger.

Well, not _that_ burger. _A_ burger.

He walks into a Five Guys right at closing and puts his gun in the the cashier’s hand. He tilts his head and smiles as the kid turns and points the gun at his coworkers. 

“Bacon burger with cheese,” Dean says. “Grilled onions. Mayo, ketchup, and mustard. Regular fry.”

The kid cries the whole time, because all he wants to do is go home instead of holding some black-eyed psycho monster’s gun. Dean sits back and eats his burger, one slow bite at a time. It is, objectively speaking, delicious. The fries, too. But he’s not here for the food. Not really. He’s here because he can do whatever he wants, and right now this is what he wants.

He snaps his fingers and the kid executes two perfect double-taps, one each into the cooks’ chests, and then turns the gun on himself.

Dean walks around the counter, retrieves his gun, and then vanishes into thin air.

* * *

The second thing he does is stand outside of Lisa Braeden’s house.

He runs through a long list of possibilities in his head, but no torture he can think up is enough to match his lingering resentment at how things worked out between them, and his desire to punish them for moving on without him.

Dean turns, instead, to the family across the street. 

He bleeds them out, one at a time, into a five gallon bucket from their garage. When he’s finished, he tucks the bodies back in their beds just the way he found them. Then, just for shits and giggles, he bottles up the blood and puts it in the family’s fridge. The bucket he washes out and puts away.

Lisa and Ben will never remember Dean Winchester, but they sure as shit are never going to forget that monsters are real. 

* * *

The third thing he does is take a trip to the cathouse. He fucks his way through his favorites over the course of about a week on a stolen credit card. 

It is, objectively speaking, extremely pleasurable. It’s so good, he doesn’t even bother to hurt anybody. He doesn’t need to. 

The fact that the old aches of loneliness and guilt in his chest are completely absent is reward enough. 

* * *

The fourth thing isn’t strictly just one action. It’s a series of attempts across seven states to slip his blood into Sam Winchester’s food. 

It’s surprisingly easy. After all, you can ward the hell out of a motel room against demons, but the pizza guy? Marinara sauce conceals a multitude of sins. Likewise, ketchup. French dressing. Black coffee. All kinds of things, really. 

The best part is that Sam has no idea what’s happening to him. He blames it on stress, exhaustion, desperation, mourning. 

Just a few drops here and there. It’s a long game, but by the time Dean is ready to show up with a pocket knife and an offer, Sam won’t be able to say no. 

He can’t decide whether he wants to make Sam suffer, or if he wants his brother back by his side, but either way it makes him happy. So there’s that.

* * *

Dean hunts the broken angel down at his leisure. It’s not like it’s necessary -- Castiel is going to burn out on his own -- but he doesn’t want to miss seeing the light go out of those pretty blue eyes. 

Preferably after giving Cas a taste of just how badly he failed to save Dean Winchester.

He throws Cas across the roof, easy as anything. They’ve been fighting for almost an hour and Cas is flagging. He dropped his angel blade a long time ago, and Dean’s been having a lot of fun playing keep-away. 

Castiel staggers to his feet. His nose and mouth are bloody, and there’s a gash across his forehead oozing blood down onto his eyebrow. He’s clutching at his side beneath his coat. 

“You were right, you know, about how I deserved to be saved,” he says, and walks over to pick up Cas’ blade. It’s so shiny. It’ll be good for carving things into Castiel’s skin. “Still, I guess you can take the man out of Hell, but you just can’t take the Hell out of the --”

Cas staggers. Drops to his knees. 

It occurs to Dean that there’s a lot of blood on Cas’ shirt. 

Dean drops the blade and stumbles over, hands instinctively seeking out the wound to put pressure on it. Cas doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t even try. It’s like the strength has gone out of his limbs entirely. Dean practically has to hold him up. 

His throat is tight. His chest is bursting. 

“Cas. Stay with me, Cas.”

Castiel’s eyes are glossy and wide. He blinks. Disoriented. “Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m here.” 

He’s a demon. Through and through, he’s a demon. He craves destruction. He’s given up on conscience and duty. Murder is second nature. But if there’s a thing demons are really fucking fantastic at, it’s wanting things. When you think about it, that’s really all demons do. Want. Take. Break the things that get in the way. Kill anything that hurts. 

He wanted Castiel to suffer. He still does. He wants Cas to break, over and over again, for failing him. But this? 

Suddenly this is not the moment Dean wanted. It’s too real, too close, and it means letting go. 

Demons do _not_ like to let go. 

Dean pushes Cas’ blood back through the wound, keeps Cas’ heart pumping. Knights of Hell have enormous power. Dean is still coming into his, but this is simple telekinesis. That’s well within his skill set. Easy, even. Unorthodox application, maybe, but he can make it work. 

“Make me a deal, Cas. I can’t heal you without a deal.”

Cas looks at him, uncomprehending. 

“How long do you want? Ten years? Twenty? Fifty?” Dean says, tears pricking at his eyes. He ignores them. Demons don’t cry. “Just tell me. I’ll fix this. Right now. I can fix you.” 

“As long as it takes to fix _you_ ,” Cas whispers. “Give me that long.”

“Sold.” 

He presses his lips to Castiel’s to seal the deal. It’s a hell of a first kiss, deep and slow and full of desire, promising more if Cas wants it. So much more. It's the kiss he denied himself in life, but now? Dean doesn't deny himself anything. He glories in the sensation of Castiel’s body knitting beneath his hands, getting stronger and warmer and steadier even as the last of his grace flickers out.

Dean pulls away, searching Castiel's eyes for some trace of angelic life, then cursing himself because he missed the moment. He's angry at being denied, and strangely heartbroken at the sight of Castiel’s human face. No more broken angel. Not anymore.

They sit together on the roof for a long time. The sun sets. The moon rises.

“You made a bad deal, Cas,” Dean says, staring at the sky. They’re above the streetlights, but the stars are still thin. “Either way, you lose. I’m a monster or you’re dead and burning.”

“I don't care. You deserve to be saved.” 

Dean scoffs. “Your soul stinks like angels. Do you have any idea what’s going to happen to you downstairs when that happens? Everybody’s going to want a piece.”

Castiel doesn’t say anything. Just shrugs.

“I should just leave you here.” Dean snaps. If he hadn’t just promised Cas an indefinite period of time on Earth, he’d fucking throttle the bastard for being self-destructive. “I should just ditch you and disappear.”

“You won’t.” Cas wraps an arm around Dean’s and leans against him. After a minute Dean wriggles out and wraps his arm around Cas’ shoulders instead. 

Dean Winchester is a demon. Demons get what they want. He isn’t sure how to want this. Not really. But he does, and he’ll burn the life out of anything that gets in his way.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to 51stCenturyFox for sweet beta love. Your tribute is in the fridge. Fresh. Atkins-friendly.


End file.
